


Clear Skies

by kangamangus (orphan_account)



Series: All Time is All Time (Klaus/Dave) [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Love, M/M, Supportive Dave, Team Bonding, Vietnam War, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kangamangus
Summary: War is hell, but so is spending hours confined to a mausoleum surrounded by the dead. War is violent, but so were the heroics of The Umbrella Academy. War is ugly, but so is getting high against a backdrop of homelessness and waiting for the inevitable overdose with Narcan chaser.Different clothes, different tools, but in a way, so much of the same. So it goes.





	Clear Skies

**Author's Note:**

> More exposition than plot, this is a brief exploration of Klaus during 1968. 
> 
> Warnings for references to the violence of war, drug use, and allusions to Vonnegut.

_All this happened, more or less._

Most people who find themselves suddenly and unexpected transported into the past, in the middle of a war zone, handed a weapon with no instruction on how to use it, would probably feel the very strong and understandable desire for a transition period. Klaus, however, has been fighting other people’s wars for so long that he slides right into place without missing a beat. 

War is hell, but so is spending hours confined to a mausoleum surrounded by the dead. War is violent, but so were the heroics of The Umbrella Academy. War is ugly, but so is getting high against a backdrop of homelessness and waiting for the inevitable overdose with Narcan chaser. 

Different clothes, different tools, but in a way, so much of the same. So it goes. 

He’s even thrown into something resembling a siblinghood with his squadmates — men who call him brother after they return from a particularly brutal battle, bloody and brutal with two soldiers down — and Klaus anticipates the same story he’s been living for as long as he can remember: brother in word, due to proximity, but an afterthought in actuality. 

This is different, though. His brothers here look out for him, actively call out his name across trenches and amidst gunfire. When he doesn’t respond, they notice, and they look. And he, in turn, looks out for them. Together, they fight; together, they mourn. A real family. 

Eventually, when there is time and space and everyone can take a collective breath, they sit around him and ask for his history. Klaus lies plenty, mostly to himself; he tells himself lies like he is going to get clean, that he is going to feel better, that everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. But Klaus doesn’t lie now, when he tells them he’s from a future that is on the brink of an apocalypse. “The future,” he announces, echoing Five, “is shit by the way.” 

He expects them to scoff and turn away, to put his stories off as the fantasy of a man who spent his first couple of days hitting them up for any way to stave off withdrawal. But they don’t. 

These are men who have seen the worst of war, and who will continue to see the worst of war, who are hated here, hated back home, with nothing to lose over believing a little tale about time travel. They all come from different backgrounds themselves; what is a little future thrown into the mix? 

“No wonder you didn’t know how to hold a rifle,” Dave, who provided very quick instructions on Klaus’ first day, replies to the story. He demonstrates Klaus’ attempt to the amusement of all them, Klaus included, then tilts his head toward him just as he had that first day, a gesture of combined amusement and acceptance, but patience. So much patience. 

“I saw that,” Cody chimes in. “He was about to take out his jaw with that hold.” 

“Can’t believe the world is going to end. What the hell is the point of all this then?” asks Dominic, a younger soldier, too young, with a way about him that reminds Klaus a little of Vanya. 

“The world’s always ending, Dom,” José answers. “It’s ending right now, right out there.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” pipes up Roy. 

And that’s that, until Dom is shot and Klaus is applying pressure to the wound, and Dom says, “Tell me about the women in the future,” in between rattling breaths, and Klaus does his best to smile as he describes breast implants bigger than Dom can fathom, talks about sex toys and describes the ubiquity of porn even as Dom is pulled away from him by a medic. 

(They are told he survives, that Klaus saved his life by applying pressure to the wound, but they never see him again, and later, years into the future, Klaus can’t find any record on him.) 

He learns the real trouble of being in the middle of a war when his bullets finally hit someone. He doesn’t see it happen — war is messy and hot and muddy and he has no idea what he is shooting at most of the time. He knows because he gets to meet the ghost of a man who speaks to him in sobbing Vietnamese and cries out for his parents. And when Klaus drops his gun and stares at someone none of his fellow soldiers can see, mumbling a broken apology, it’s Dave who pulls him to the ground, Dave who covers him and gets knicked by a bullet for him. Dave who brings him back and sits with him until Klaus is present enough to ask for something to drown out the wails. 

Dave brings him booze, just booze, nothing else, and Klaus thinks there’s no way he’ll be able to spend the night listening to the wailing. He decides to get to the briefcase, to ghost the whole lot of them, to leave and return to a world he understands, where he can control the degree of numb he feels, where Ben, not a victim, _his_ victim, is standing over him. 

But Dave grabs his arm and pulls him back onto the cot and sits with him all night, telling him stories of his childhood, stories of the war before Klaus showed up, offering Klaus his own secrets and burdens. He keeps talking until, eventually, Klaus only hears his voice, and can finally fall asleep. 

Later, after more death, after a night in town with his brothers, after several drinks and a first kiss and then more kisses, after Klaus understands what it is like to be truly accepted, physically and emotionally, maybe even spiritually, all the adverbs pulling overtime in between the touching and moaning, Klaus decides he isn’t going to leave. Not until he sees this through, and even then, not unless Dave will go with him. 

For the first time, Klaus truly roots himself to something, someone — and even though war is terrible, he finds that he has a small glimmer of purpose. Of happiness. 

“As stupid and vicious as men are, this is a lovely day," he tells Dave as they march into position yet again, glancing up toward the sun. (How long has it been since he truly looked at a sky without an umbrella eclipsing it, he wonders?)

"That's one way of putting it," Dave replies, attempting to wipe sweat off his brow. 

"Not as lovely as you, though," Klaus tells him with a flirtatious grin. He can hear Roy groaning behind him. 

Dave laughs, though, and it's enough. It's enough to keep Klaus rooted, happy, clean. 

Complete.


End file.
